


Better Left Unsaid

by hannahrhen



Series: Good, Giving, Game [13]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Masturbation, Rape Fantasy, Sexual Fantasy, descriptions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:52:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m not asking for a list of your desired conquests. I’m asking for what you dream of when you only have your own mind and conscience”--Loki said the last word with a puff of disgust--”to limit yourself.”</p><p>Loki compels Tony to confess his worst sexual fantasies.</p><p>(Between days 13 and 14 in the "Good, Giving, Game" 'verse)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Left Unsaid

It wasn’t the image he’d anticipated when he crept out of his bedroom doorway at two a.m.

The rain had woken him, and Tony decided it was time to test the seeming “freedoms” that Loki had offered the day before, when the door was left unlocked. Unmagicked. Whatever. Tony knew catching Loki deeply asleep, finding him defenseless, was unlikely. But he also hadn’t anticipated discovering the man curled in a chair, single floor lamp behind his shoulder, book in his hands.

He wondered if Loki actually slept. He shouldn’t be surprised that he read.

He couldn’t surprise Loki, of course, and Loki’s head already was raised, eyes fixed on Tony. “Do you need something?” The corner of his lip twisted up, more _“danger!”_ than amusement. “Or were you attempting to leave?” 

Two weeks in, two weeks of learning Tony’s every fucking _crevice_ , and his paranoia level was still impressive.

Tony stepped further into the room, trying to project a casualness he’d barely been able to hang onto since this situation began. “Not leaving, Sleepless Beauty.” He gestured at the balcony. “Rain woke me up.”

Loki followed the motion as if noticing the sound for the first time. Turned back, unimpressed. “And you came out to keep me company?” He folded the book shut, slipped it spine-first into one hand.

“Didn’t know you were here.” Realized how that sounded and had it confirmed by Loki’s flat expression. “Well, I assumed you were sleeping. So it was either get out of bed or, you know--” _Add one shit-eating grin._ “--jerk off.” He actually kind of enjoyed the smirk that earned, the brief drop of Loki’s gaze. “Which seems counterproductive. To your project.”

The silence went on after Loki glanced back up, but it wasn’t awful. It was hard to be awkward with someone you’d fucked in almost every configuration. Loki looked relaxed--enough--in an overlong cream-colored pullover and soft black pants. He could be doing yoga rather than trying to enslave humanity. _Again._ This one particular human, anyway.

Tony gestured at the book. “What are you reading?”

Loki held it up. It was a hardcover thing, one of the books wedged artfully into the apartment’s bookshelves--yet another clue that the place had come pre-furnished. The whole place was a little too generic--a little too carefully sane--to belong to Loki.

Tony squinted at the ornate letters on the cover. “‘Madame Bovary?’” Couldn’t help but snicker. “That’s ... not altogether a bad choice for you, actually.”

Loki shrugged. “She’s compelling so far.”

Yeah, _best leave that alone._ Tony crossed to the sofa, sat down on one end. “Well, don’t mind me--I’ll just stare off into space until I can sleep again. Since I have absolutely nothing else to do.”

Earned an eyebrow for his trouble. “Really?” Loki said. “I’m not finding ways to occupy your time while you’re my guest?” The tone projected sex, but, then, Loki’s tone usually projected sex. It was the default setting.

“You know what I mean.” Tony watched as Loki set the novel on the side table and himself moved to the sofa. He took the opposite side from Tony, dropping gracefully into the cushions. And ... it suddenly looked like more than Loki’s tone was projecting sex. “You aren’t exactly giving me anything to do.” He snorted, looked Loki up and down with obvious appraisal. “Besides you.”

“No, I suppose not.” Loki’s tone was agreeable, but, based on Tony’s experience, it wouldn’t necessarily hold. Loki shifted on the sofa, settling his back against the overlarge cushion on the armrest, and raised one leg to a bend on the sofa’s seat, dropping his knee against the back. His fingers curved loosely in Tony’s direction. “If you’ll come here, I might help to keep you occupied.”

And that was the gentlest zero-to-sixty Tony had gotten during his captivity. He hesitated--of _course_ he hesitated. There was no list in sight; Loki hadn’t even mentioned it. And there Tony was, in t-shirt and boxers, seriously considering crawling into the god’s lap.

The sound of the rain was soothing, the apartment otherwise still, and the city below as quiet in the deep night as it ever would be. Loki looked at him as if Tony’s response was the least interesting thing in the known universe. _Take it or leave it._

It was Loki’s seeming lack of interest that convinced him. Tony--Tony’s dick--was nothing if not predictable. As he moved across the sofa--literally crawling, Jesus--Loki guided his arms and torso until he’d fully turned, settling into the cradle made by those long legs. One thigh was braced on each of Tony’s hips, now, and both Tony and Loki were semireclined--Loki on the cushioned armrest, and Tony on--

Lying back against Loki’s chest, the round of his skull resting on the god’s right shoulder, Tony was was ... uh ...

“Comfortable?” The rumble vibrated into Tony’s ribs.

“Not necessarily the first word I’d use.” But, yeah. _Hell._ Tony shifted a bit, lifting his back and stretching his neck to settle himself more firmly on Loki’s chest and shoulder, one temple against the edge of Loki’s jaw, and the other close to the sofa back. Fucking cozy. Sighed as his body settled, as he more than realized the advantages of his position relative to Loki’s hands and mouth. “Not necessarily bad, though,” he admitted.

Especially given that his new position allowed Loki’s left hand the freedom to roam down Tony’s own chest, gliding over his stomach. Loki’s other arm curled up, and his hand landed on the flat span between Tony’s shoulder and his collarbone. Dug his thumb into the tough socket joint, and got a good hold on him.

Looked like Tony was going to jerk off after all. Just with a little help.

That worked.

He moved his legs apart to make things easier for Loki--and gave silent thanks for wearing boxers to bed. He could feel the fabric of Loki’s pants silken-soft around Tony’s bare legs. Loki’s fingers teased over the hair below his belly button and then pressed lightly beneath the elastic of his underwear. He assumed they were going to get straight to the action, and things were looking pretty good on that front, so the voice surprised him:

“Talk to me, Stark.”

Tony’s eyes darted around the room, in search of something to settle on. Managed, “About what, Saruman?”

Loki’s fingers stroked up and down the trail of hair between Tony’s navel and rapidly stirring dick. His right arm shifted under Tony’s, still looking for an agreeable position. The nickname was ignored, as they usually were these days. “If you were doing this in your bed, what would you be thinking of?”

Wasn’t exactly what he was expecting, but, on the other hand, what better topic was there at the mo’? “You mean, what gets me off?” Knew Loki probably understood that, but clarified anyway: “What I fantasize about.”

Felt Loki’s hum in his skull and spine rather than hearing it. Loki pressed on: “I suppose, yes. What thoughts bring you to the edge when you’re chasing your pleasure?”

Yeah, that was a better way of saying it. _Fuck Loki._ Tony shifted again, tried to encourage that hand to move faster--to move down--in its explorations. He still only had a couple of those good, long fingers under the elastic of his shorts, stroking and pressing into his skin and catching on the outer boundary of his pubic hair.

Tony’s hands were unoccupied--probably an oversight, he realized. Missed opportunity. He lifted the left one over Loki’s exploring arm to the thigh that bent off the sofa, the one that held Loki’s foot to the floor and locked both their bodies in place. He curled the other hand up, pinning Loki’s own hand where it now rested on Tony’s chest.

They were not holding hands. They were not cuddling. This was just ... being efficient. Maximizing space.

Loki wanted fantasies, so fantasies were what he was going to get. Nice, neutral fantasies: “Probably the same thing as anyone--women I’ve fucked. Women I’d like to fuck.” Hissed at the tug of of that wicked left hand on his very sensitive pubes. Ha, that was probably too easy, then. “Okay, fine--men I’d like to fuck, too.” Loki’s fingers released the pressure and slipped closer to Tony’s cock, which was rising to meet them. It was a gorgeous sight to Tony’s eyes, even if Tony knew he was being teased. “What I would do if I finally got to do them. You know.” He squirmed a little bit, trying to push his pelvis up closer to that searching hand. “The usual.”

“That’s decidedly unspecific,” Loki chided. “But perhaps I wasn’t clear, so let us try again.” Fuck. Of course. “What do you imagine doing--or what do you imagine being done to you, when no one is present to know your thoughts? I’m not asking for a list of your desired sexual conquests. I’m asking for what you dream of when you only have your own mind and conscience”--he said the last word with a puff of disgust--”to limit yourself.”

Tony exhaled. Then took a sharp breath as Loki’s hand finally, mercifully, reached his dick, now tenting underneath the thin layer of underwear. His eyes drifted shut. That was-- _oh_ \--nice.

“Stark.”

Eyes snapped back open, because, yeah, _Oprah wanted to talk._ “So, you’re asking me about what really turns my crank, then?” He pulled his hand up from Loki’s thigh to rest on the god’s forearm, to feel it move as it explored and stroked, to feel the muscle and tendon shifting under the flawless skin. “I feel like you’re getting a pretty good idea of that--”

Squeaked as the hand squeezed his cock. A warning.

“--okay, fine--you want the perverted shit. The stuff no one else knows about.” Sighed. “Probably gonna disappoint you, God of Nonstandard Sexual Positions. I’m not really up for, you know, being shit on. Or fucking--” Don’t mention animals. _Don’t mention animals._ “--uh, fucking people too young to drive.” He groaned as Loki’s palm pulled out of his underwear and opened over his shaft, over the fine cotton, massaging him with the firm, even strokes of the flat of his hand. Tony made a soft, pleased noise.

The hand slowed down again. Classic conditioning. Reward and punishment. “Stark. I know enough of humanity--enough of the Aesir, for that matter--to know that there are ideas, visions, that ‘turn your crank’--ones you don’t like to admit to yourself when daylight comes.”

Asshole. “But fortunately it’s night, huh?” Tony retorted. He couldn’t rile himself up too much, though--the gentle manipulation of his dick, Loki’s warmth behind him, the patter and scent of soft rain, the meager glow of the single lamp ... it all worked together to loosen his tongue. Lower his defenses. Loki wanted to hear the dirty stuff, maybe that was something Tony could do. After all, there was no one else to know.

A final push from that lush voice: “Let me start you off simply: Do you hurt, or are you hurt?”

... or-- _ugh._ Perceptive shithead. “Cut right to the chase, don’t you, princess?”

“In my experience, it’s one or the other.” Tony could hear the wheels turning. “Or both, perhaps?”

“ ... fine,” Tony said. “Sometimes it’s--God. That’s nice.” Was prompted again by Loki’s hand stilling. Pavlov’s bell. “Okay, fine. Fine. _FINE_.” And he gave Loki what he wanted, with one halting word after another.

At first, he struggled through the descriptions, embarrassment tying his tongue, but closing his eyes helped, and Loki’s continuing silence helped more. And so he began to sketch the image in low, hoarsely uttered words: A picture of Tony on the floor, on his back, immobile under someone so much bigger than him. A body with huge, wide shoulders, beefy arms, thick chest. Solid muscle pressing him down, holding him still. Using him for ... whatever. And making him comply with it. Ignoring Tony’s negotiations and pleas.

Tony had never been fucked in the ass before, not before Loki, so his imagination had been decidedly nonspecific, but he knew cocks. Knew them, and loved them, and he could feel the huge dick shoved between his legs, seesawing itself between his thighs, pushing closer to climax as Tony struggled and scratched. It wasn’t force--maybe. More like ... undeniable persuasion.

Loki’s breath sped up as Tony talked, as he squirmed inside the encouraging touches of Loki’s hand, as he described everything about the metal floor, the dim backlighting, the smell of exhaust, the echoes of his cries, his pleading. The smell of male sweat and feel of damp, hot skin over him, around him.

Tony was splayed open, held down, shut up.

 _Shut up,_ for once.

As his tongue loosened, his inhibitions lowered, he was rich with details about the setting, about how he felt as he was taken. But Tony would keep one detail to himself. Would never-- _never_ \--tell Loki who it was that was using him. Would never admit the very specific moment, after Captain America had barked at him to suit up--”put on the suit, and let’s go a few rounds”--that the Captain’s rounds meant throwing Tony to the floor and keeping him there. Eyes glinting with anger and judgment, with having his worst suspicions confirmed as he insinuated himself between Tony’s legs, angling his hips open, forcing Tony to accommodate his enormous size, just forcing Tony to--

Okay ... maybe it was force. Just enough to _count._ Just enough that shame fouled every burning orgasm Tony found at the end of it. But it never stopped him from coming.

God, no.

In his fantasy, it was not Steve Rogers. Never the Steve he knew now. Just Captain America, the stranger. Tall and broad, gorgeous in his uniform, full of righteous outrage and moral disgust, and just ready to make Tony pay for every sin the twenty-first century committed.

Lost in the dirty bliss of his mind, Tony almost, almost, almost said it.

_Captain._

Then those excellent fingers--Loki’s fingers--cupped him firmly, snapped him out of the imagery, and Tony lost the thread of a very awkward revelation, that moment that his voice almost got away from him, almost revealed too fucking much. No, it was just an anonymous bulk, a faceless alpha male, that twisted and took.

Tony wasn’t surprised that Loki was hard beneath Tony’s tailbone. If the last two weeks had taught him anything, it was that Loki found little more arousing than having Iron Man on his back, a supplicant. Turning him inside out with want and humiliation.

Tony hated that it felt so fucking good, the supplication. He curved his spine just enough to press into Loki’s cock.

The tips of Loki’s longest fingers curled under Tony’s balls, stroking just the place where Tony’s sac connected to his body. Christ, that was nice. He couldn’t spread his legs any wider, even though he fucking well tried. Tony’s left hand moved down over Loki’s, enclosed the god’s grip around his dick, encouraging him. Reminding Loki of the reward he’d promised for Tony’s compliance.

“And whom do you hurt?” Loki prompted. “When you bring your power with you. Into your mind.”

And, okay, fuck--this apparently wasn’t over. He gave Loki’s hand--and therefore his own cock--a swift tug. Then another. Groaned. “Don’t make me--”

A waste of oxygen. Loki’s voice was lower, pitched to menace: “Whom do you hurt, Stark?”

“Loki, please--” Wasn’t sure what he was begging for, the hand on him to fucking move or for this goddamned line of questioning to stop.

“Don’t forget what I’m capable of, Stark,” he hissed, and his fingers clenched and tightened, drawing a pained noise as Tony flinched. “Tell me--”

Fine. God, okay: “ _You._ ... It’s you,” he panted as his body twisted. This was going to end badly. The first thirty seconds in the room should have told Tony that. _Did_ tell Tony that. He should have--God--stayed in fucking bed.

But the movement against his skull, the tone of Loki’s response--the god was smiling. “Oh. Ohhh. Indeed.” A breath. “This I do want to hear.”

_Danger._

“When I--” Tony finally cried out as fingers pushed up hard under his balls, as the handling turned rough enough to keep his full attention, but all raw pleasure this time. Tony writhed in Loki’s arms, in his hands. “I think about how things could have been different, in New York.”

“In your apartment, you mean? The day we met?”

Tony rolled his eyes, chased after that hand. “We met in Stuttgart, if you recall.”

That smile, that same seductive tone--Tony could hear both in Loki’s words: “Yes, but you weren’t interesting to me then.”

Tony’s chuckle was tinged with bitterness. “Ah, so I became interesting to you when you threw me through a window.”

Felt Loki brush his chin against Tony’s temple, almost affectionate. “You became interesting to me when you offered to pour me a drink. Twice.”

Tony snorted. “And yet you still tried to kill me.”

“And yet even with my hands on your most prized possessions,” he said, trailing fingers up to pinch the tip of Tony’s dick, making Tony jerk away, “... you still attempt to evade me.”

“Okay, okay--yes.” Tony rubbed his thumb over the sore tip of his cock, discovered the fluid that had built up there and slicked the head. Collected the drops on the pad of his thumb and, emboldened, raised it across his chest, the offering to a god.

Loki craned his head forward and licked the digit with his artful tongue. He pulled back. “Talk to me, Stark. Tell me your secret wants. Tell me what shames you,” he whispered, air gusting over Tony’s wet-cold skin, before he took the thumb again, fully in his mouth. His right hand slid over to Tony’s hip, began to move the man over Loki’s own hard-on.

Half of Tony’s brain power was centered in his congested groin, but, as he panted, he sought the words. This was ... this was somehow fucking worse than sizekinking a Captain America with a rage-on. So much worse. “It’s when you ... God, I can’t believe you want me to talk about this.” Got a soft bite for his trouble. “Okay, fine--look. I don’t apologize for what I think about when I’m about to come, okay? Are we straight on that?” Another bite. Tony groaned.

Get on with it.

Okay: “It’s when you grabbed me, before you, uh, threw me out the fucking window?” Waited for an answer he wasn’t going to get, unless the soft, fucking lovely suction around his thumb counted, and it counted for something. “I manage to ... get loose, to pull away from you. I guess before you put your hands on me the second time--”

And said hands were on his dick and pelvis now, pleasuring him and moving him for Loki’s pleasure, and Loki’s dick had gotten out of his pants at some point and was pressing into the uppermost curve of Tony’s ass, and _what the actual fuck._

“I got free of you, and I fucking just--I just--”

God.

And Tony can see it, sunlight streaming through the (unbroken) windows of the penthouse, Loki’s face still displaying shock at being denied his little victory. The city is safe, for now. Tony is free, and Tony is pissed. He’s broken from the loss of Coulson, from the massacre on the helicarrier, from Stuttgart.

Loki? Loki _is a god_ \--fuck, no one can tell him differently. _He is a **god**._ He’d seen the footage before he’d gotten to Germany, Loki’s voice resonating through the plaza, how quickly a population of humanity, a fucking _representative sample_ , had fallen to its knees in front of him. Gods had weaknesses--this god had so _many_ weaknesses--but in his darkest heart, Tony knew that made him no less a deity.

In another lifetime, he would have worshiped Loki.

In this lifetime, it made Tony a heretic.

He’s sucking in air, hands curled into fists at his sides, and Loki is huge, yes, but not ... not insurmountable. And Tony is no longer the weakened victim, trapped in that cave. So ... He backhands Loki, like a little bitch. Like he'd wanted to do to so many others, years before. And the sight of Loki dropping to his fucking knees, defeated? A god, fallen at Tony’s feet? Sends blood surging into his cock--

He groaned in Loki’s arms. “Fuck--I need to come.” He arched up, desperate. Yanked his thumb from Loki's mouth. “Please, Loki, let me come.”

Loki’s hand was hard and unforgiving. Fitting. A god, punishing a wayward supplicant. “I’m on my knees, Stark?” he prompted.

God. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. “You’re on the floor, yeah.” Gasped and groaned, dick under him rubbing grooves into his lower back, painting patches of Tony’s naked skin with dribbles of precome. “And you’re bruised, on your cheekbone, your hand on your face, and you’re looking up at me as if you’re seeing me for the first time.”

The whisper went directly into his ear. “I did truly see you for the first time that day, Stark.” The fingers on Tony’s hip would bruise.

“Mm, well.” Tony didn’t believe it. _Fuck him._ “You’re on the floor, at my feet, and I know I’m going to hit you again.” Gasped. “I’m going to. And you want it.”

Another quiet confidence: “And so do you.”

The word escaped him, sibilant from his mouth, before he could consider the repercussions: “Yes.”

“Interesting image, Stark,” but it wasn’t a warning. It wasn’t dangerous.

It also wasn’t actually a denial.

Emboldened, or reckless, Tony continued. “I shove you, this time--push you--and get you to move, the way I want you, kneeling--” He moaned into the grip that sped on his cock. He would lose his mind tonight. _Lose his fucking mind._ “And I get my hand into your hair, and my other hand--” Loki’s other hand slid down his perineum toward his hole. “I slap your face again. Your smug, enraging, evil, fucking gorgeous face.” And that was approval, that tiny noise Loki made.

 _Approval._ “Fuck. Loki.”

Softly: “Then?” Keep going.

Tony was thrusting up now, a regular rhythm, and panting next to Loki’s ear as they moved in synchronicity, the push-pull dance of their hips, of Loki’s experienced hands, shoving both of them upward to their peaks. Desperately, he confessed, “I want you to hurt, Loki--I want to hurt you. So much.”

“I know you do, Stark.” Indulgent this time. “So, what do you do next?”

“No.” Tony arched his entire spine. He was so fucking close, and he knew his mouth would betray him this time. “Just ... _shut up._ ”

Got the laugh of the mad. “You use me, Stark, that’s what you’re going to say next. You debase me. Like your _supposedly anonymous_ attacker debases you.” The emphasis was wrong, the tone was-- _Oh, shit._ Don’t fucking half-truth the God of Fucking Lies, Tony Stark. He will always find you out. “So,” Loki continued, smug as Tony ever heard him, “how do you use me?”

The words poured out, another confession. “In every degrading way I can imagine.” The vision was right there, even clearer with the feel of Loki behind him, the smell of his hair and his flesh, the texture of his skin. He wanted--oh, God, he wanted. Wanted Loki beneath him and sobbing, wanted him begging and twisting as he presented himself like an animal. Something like Loki on day eight, bowed backward at the headboard, eyes shining and mouth soft, as Tony teased and pinched and slapped. But nothing like that, in the end, as Tony roughly spread his legs and forced his cock in.

At that moment, he wanted it all.

He was riding Loki’s hands, now, undulating down into the grip on his balls and back up into the fist that worked him, could only hear Loki’s soft murmurs of encouragement, could feel nothing but the man he is fucking.

_The man he will keep fucking._

“Loki! I just want to--” He cried out. “I just want to--”

God, _I want to do everything to you._

Loki heard it anyway. “I know you do, Stark--and I want you to. Everything you’ve done.” Mouth right in Tony’s ear. “Everything you will do.”

Oh, God. _My god._

Tony finally, finally began to shoot over Loki’s hands, feeling Loki flinch at the near-scream just next to his own ear, but Loki only held on, bracing Tony’s body as it tensed, convulsed, and finally crested that long-chased peak of pleasure. Until Tony finally fell back against Loki’s chest. Where this had begun.

Tony’s t-shirt was soaked.

Loki was close, under his ass, and Tony’s own orgasm, his own dead weight wasn’t slowing Loki down. Tony could tell by the panting in his ear, the rough hands on his hips, working his asscheeks around Loki’s cock with just that scant barrier between them. But for now, he needed to talk. Jesus, he wanted to ... Wanted to say--

Wanted Loki to know that’s not what Tony is. That it was just a fucking late-night fantasy.

So he tried. Began, “I don’t really want to--” Struggled out of Loki’s grasping, desperate arms to turn over, to give Loki his hands or his mouth--whatever he needed. Started again as he shoved a hand into the vee of those soft black pants, found Loki at once, hot and jerking in his palm. Tony’s words ran together in a rush: “I don’t want to hurt you. I _won’t_ hurt you. That way. It was just--” He looked up into Loki’s face. Tried to assure, “It was just a fantasy.”

Loki wasn’t projecting offense, not at the moment as he was neared his own climax, but his expression was more calculating than Tony ever wanted it to be.

_Danger._

“We’ll see, Stark,” he said finally, and submitted completely to Tony’s touch.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this comes before day 14 for a reason. [Some thoughts on that](http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com/post/58107561405/new-fic-better-left-unsaid-by-hannahrhen-frostiron).
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always. Find me on tumblr at [hannahrhen.tumblr.com](hannahrhen.tumblr.com).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Hint of the Century](https://archiveofourown.org/works/985448) by [junes_discotheque](https://archiveofourown.org/users/junes_discotheque/pseuds/junes_discotheque)




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